Seashell
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: My first M&C fic. JackStephen friendship fluff. NO SLASH! Please RR. Thank you!


A/N: This is insufferably short. I've concluded that it's really very shitty. Sorry about that. It's my first M&C fanfic, and I hope to write more in the future. By the looks of it, I'll have to, to make up for this one…. Please R/R. NO SLASH!

Seashell:

Prelude from the Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major by J.S. Bach 

Jack Aubrey was not a solitary creature. He had not exactly known this until the incident occurred, but now the truth hit full force. Served him right, considering the way he had behaved, and he was certainly regretting it now. Yes, it was one of life's lessons that the captain was made to learn the hard way, and, in fact, it was the hardest one he had ever had to learn in his decently long life. He had been arrogant enough to think before that he could handle solitude quite well, thank you very much. He was the captain – he couldn't be wholly dependent on anything but his ship, including company. At least, that was his frame of mind throughout his entire career up until a few days ago. What had changed this firm and life-long belief was a shocking turn of events that left him feeling even more vulnerable than his best friend.

Stephen Maturin was Jack's anchor, the resident doctor of the _Surprise_ and his oldest friend. Stephen, unlike Jack, was a solitary creature. He was perfectly content with himself and a lack of company. Nature was enough for the doctor's soul, and Jack was no different from the crew when it came to the fact that the good doctor's fascination with nature eluded him. Not just once had Jack felt frustration and neglect when it appeared that Stephen preferred a bird's company over his. The doctor would spend hours locked away in his rooms, poring over books or analyzing his specimens of dead insects and oceanic plankton or something of the like. The years he had known Stephen had in no way helped him understand that part of the doctor. And perhaps it was this lack of understanding that led him to behave like a complete tyrant with Stephen.

Going over the thoughts once more did not ease the ache they rendered in Jack's chest. All Stephen had wanted was to see the Galapagos. Jack couldn't remember the last time the doctor had asked for anything from him, and the one thing his best friend had his heart set on, Jack had to deny it. It wasn't as if the captain didn't want to please Stephen. Part of him had chorused the entire time to let Stephen have his dream, but he had given in to the selfish part of him that was obsessed with the pursuit of the _Acheron_. The result had been a fight that Jack had never wanted in any way and a rift in his friendship with the doctor that had never stopped bothering him. He hated it when Stephen didn't talk to him, the night empty of music, and the cold glances that the doctor gave him. Thus, the past few days had been no small misery. He had even had several moments where he inwardly considered turning around and giving in just to have Stephen forgive him, but the fever of pursuit had kept him from temptation each time.

And then it had happened – the accident that still left the gunshot reverberating in his head. He had thought for a moment that the damn bird had finally been brought down, but that casual assumption was shattered when he emerged from his cabin. His eyes had widened, after the minute it took for him to realize what lay before him, and he had rushed forward with the feeling like he was taking an eternity and would therefore be too late. Yet the next moment, he was at Stephen's side, screaming for help, cradling the doctor to his chest. He still couldn't forget the way Stephen had looked down at the wound, as if he couldn't feel it, as if he didn't believe it. The doctor had looked more disoriented than pained – at least in that moment.

Jack hadn't given it a second thought, when he was told that it would be the best for the doctor to have the bullet removed on firm ground. Once he left Stephen below with Higgins, he gave the official order that the ship turn back to the Galapagos. He was not going to lose his best friend. Not now. Let the _Acheron_ go to hell, but she would not take Stephen. Never Stephen.

" Please don't tell me this was for me," the doctor had whispered hoarsely as he was carried across shore on a makeshift stretcher. Jack had only smiled down at him, his stride swift.

" Don't be silly," he reassured Stephen. "I only wanted to stretch my legs."

But dear God, Stephen was selfless. Jack couldn't think of anything else when the doctor asked him. Stephen had closed his eyes after Jack's answer and had grown quiet once more, and Jack knew he had accepted that the captain was trying to apologize, in his own strange way. Aubrey was a man of action, whilst Maturin was one of words. That was simply their individual natures. Jack would never have the fortitude to compromise his pride by dragging apologetic words from his lips, but he could very well show his remorse instead of telling it.

That was his story of a rude awakening to the dispensability of his closest friend, and here he was, sitting at Stephen's side. The doctor was sleeping, bless him, and Jack was content to watch him. The surgery had left Aubrey shaken, despite his career of Navy woes. For all he had seen, Stephen was different. Jack had had to fight ever wave of inclination to look away when the doctor dug into his own flesh for the bullet. Though Higgins had been there, Jack knew Stephen would only ever allow the captain to touch him. Pressing his hand into Stephen's belly had drained Jack Aubrey of all his usual unwavering confidence, and he was not grateful that the crew had not been present to see him in such a state. He had gripped Stephen's shoulders countless times before, whether in affection or comfort, but pressing his fingers into the doctor's soft stomach and causing pain had been entirely different. He hoped, as he rubbed over his eyes tiredly, that he would never be called to such a task again.

A quiet noise interrupted his troubled ruminations. Stephen stirred in his heap of blankets, turning his head toward Jack and opening his china blue eyes sleepily. Neither spoke for a minute, though Jack had straightened in his seat. The doctor almost looked like he was yet asleep with his eyes open.

"Jack," he started. "Long periods of sitting never suited you." Jack almost laughed at this but managed to keep it to a smile.

"How generous of you to remind me, Stephen," he said.

"My generosity is apparently no different than sarcasm," the doctor replied, attempting to push himself up. Jack, however, was quick to stop him. The captain had half-risen from his seat to rest a hand on Stephen's thin shoulder.

"You shouldn't move, Stephen," he warned. "You'll strain yourself." Stephen sunk back down with a sigh of defeat, and Jack sat back down properly, traces of a satisfied smile on his lips. Stephen continued to look at him wearily for a while.

"How long have you been sitting here, Jack?" he asked bleakly. Jack looked into his lap almost sheepishly, another grin surfacing.

"Not too long, Stephen," he said mildly.

"I beg to differ," Stephen said dryly. "You've already done too much by turning back for me, and now you have to sit here for hours on end." He looked away, annoyance in his voice, which Jack knew to be guilt in disguise.

"Of course I turned back," he said. "You would have died otherwise. And I don't mind sitting with you, Stephen." The doctor looked to him again, hesitating to let go of his ill mood but doing so anyway. He felt his heart soften in his chest, and he loathed his weakness. Jack was smiling, regardless of the gesture being unrequited. He stood unexpectedly, drawing Stephen's attention again, and bent down to pick up his violin that had been sitting near his chair.

"Oh," he said suddenly, ceasing to ready the instrument. Instead, he reached into his pocket and produced a small object that was unseen in his fingers. "I found this and thought you might like it, joy." He offered it to Stephen, who took it, and smiled as he nestled the violin under his chin. As the music began to fill the tent, Stephen studied the gift – a beaded periwinkle seashell. He turned it over in his slender fingers, unsure why Jack would do such a thing, and looked up to his friend after a moment. Jack was smiling, his eyes closed, the bow stroking its strings sweetly. At last, Stephen felt a soft smile creep over him and set the shell on the corner of his makeshift bedside table – a crate. He would have to take up his cello soon.


End file.
